More then your worst nightmare
by Living in a fantasy
Summary: “You die Sammy. Every night I fall asleep and you die, and I can never save you.” Sam thinks Dean is just worrying about his safety. You should never dismiss dreams, especially when they are coming true, and the reason is not because of special abilities
1. The first of many

More then your worst nightmare

Summary: "You die Sammy. Every night I fall asleep and there you are. You die, and I can never save you." Sam thinks Dean is just worrying about his safety, but then again, you should never dismiss dreams.

A/N: This is my first supernatural fic, and I know I have like 6 stories going now, but this one well…I'm on a Supernatural obsession, and I didn't think I could write a good fanfiction, but I'm going to try. I MUST WRITE ONE! Heh, anyway, criticism would be appreciated, and please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not; unfortunately own the wonderful Winchester brothers –Winks at brothers-

**Sam**: Dean, she scares me.

**Dean**: She scares everyone Sammy.

But that doesn't mean I can't play around with their feelings, does it? Isn't angst a wonderful thing? Also, this fic may contain spoilers for various episodes. This chapter contains minor spoilers for Something Wicked.

/…/…/…/

Chapter one: Frozen again

_Dean grunted in pain as his back connected with the hard wood of the closet he had been thrown into. Damn that HURT! The wood gave way to his weight and he flew into the closet, not stopping until he met the back wall. He fell in a heap on the floor and groaned, slowly attempting to stand up. It wasn't easy, his back hurt like hell!_

_He heard the distressed calls of his brother and forced himself up, rushing towards the door. It took ages to get there, it was as if the door was stretching out before him, getting farther away as Sam's calls grew louder. Dean growled in frustration and finally reached the door, and stood shocked at what he saw._

_The Shtriga was leaning over Sam, taking rattling breaths and lowering closer to him. But that meant._

_No._

_Dean growled as the Shtriga began to feed off his brother and quickly went for his gun, quickly moving forward and taking aim._

_But as the life was sucked from his little brother, he found that he could not pull the trigger. His feet were rooted to the floor and his hands glued to the gun. He desperately tried to force his fingers to pull the trigger, but they wouldn't budge. He began to panic. This couldn't happen, not again. Dad wasn't going to save him this time, it was his responsibility now! He had to take it out._

_But his hand, as well as the rest of his body remained unresponsive. Desperate, he did the only thing he could think to do. "SAM! Sammy!"_

_Sam, miraculously, opened his eyes weakly and stared at Dean, betrayal evident within them. "Why didn't you save me Dean? Why do you hate me?" Sam asked in a hoarse voice before his eyes dimmed and he stared lifelessly at his older brother._

_"Sam! Sam no! This can't be happening! I can't loose you, SAM!"_

_Dean pulled harder against his frozen body, and it suddenly gave away. He fell on all fours to the floor, crawling towards Sam as the _Shtriga _leered down at him. "Sammy," Dean whispered, cradling his fallen brother._

_The Shtriga was not about to let him go free however, and was quickly upon Dean, holding his throat with his hands, quickly cutting off his supply of oxygen. 'Sammy, I failed you,' Dean thought, before everything went dark._

Dean jolted awake in bed, sitting up so fast it made his head spin. He was covered in a sheet of sticky sweat, and he was taking deep breaths of air without realizing it.

_Sammy! Where is Sammy?_

Dean turned around franticly before visibly relaxing when he saw Sam sound asleep on the musty motel sheets. He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair before slowly standing up, wincing as the springs that had previously been digging into his back squeaked, though thankfully not waking his brother.

Sam was sleeping peacefully, a rare occurrence these days, and Dean was not going to be the one to mess it up. He quietly made his way toward the bathroom, pausing only once to swear under his breath as he bumped into the dusty coffee table. He shut the door with a soft squeak behind him before finally relaxing and letting his arms come to a rest on the sink.

What had that dream been about? Sam was always the one having those kind of dreams. Plus, that day had happened weeks ago, and he'd never had a dream before this. Dean sighed and silently flicked on the light.

_I shouldn't still be feeling guilty, not enough to have dreams about it. It's crossed my mind of course, but never so…vividly before tonight._

Dean turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on his face, cooling himself off and effectively calming himself down some more.

_After all, they're just dreams right? It's not like they mean anything._

He sighed as he heard the squeak of those damn bedsprings, Sam had woken up. He turned off the faucet and wiped his face off with a towel that smelled like it hadn't been washed decently in months. He glared at the offending item before tossing it the floor and opening the door.

Sam was sitting up in bed, watching Dean as he quickly shut off the light and made his way out of the bathroom, making sure to avoid the now known coffee table.

"What were you doing?" Sam asked, in a voice that showed he was obviously half asleep.

"I'm coming out of the bathroom at two in the morning Sam, what the hell do you think I was doing?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes.

Sam grumbled something about how you could never be sure with him, before lying down and turning away from Dean. Dean chuckled and lied back down before closing his eyes; it wasn't like he'd have another dream like that again, right?

/…/…/…/

Dean awoke the next morning to the motel room door closing a little to loudly for his liking. He opened an eye to find his brother grinning stupidly at him and holding up a small bag. "Donuts," he said when Dean eyed it carefully.

"Where did you get them, I didn't see any place around here," Dean asked, sitting up and glaring at the uncomfortable mattress before standing and stretching. Sam looked a little nervous now, as Dean fixed him with a hard gaze.

"Well, it was about a fifteen minute…" he trailed off.

"Yes Sam?"

Sam smiled nervously and pulled out a chocolate donut before handing the bag to Dean, who took it without taking his eyes off his brother. "The place was a fifteen minute drive east, on the edge of town."

"You drove…my car."

"Um, yes."

Dean turned abruptly, as if to head out the door but stopped. He pulled a donut out of the bag and took a bite, looking back at Sam. "You didn't scratch her did you?"

Sam shook his head. "No Dean, your car is perfectly fine," Sam said in an assuring voice, now convinced his brother wasn't going to murder him for touching his car.

"I'll be the judge of that," Dean muttered, letting himself fall into a nearby chair and gazing at Sam. He didn't seem to remember their little nighttime chat, which was just fine with him.

It was weird though, he hadn't had any more dreams, but he remembered every single detail of this one. How his body froze up, how much it had strained him muscles to try and move, you Sam's eyes had been filled with such betrayal.

"Hey, you gonna give me some of those donuts?" Sam's voice broke through his drifting thoughts, and he tossed the bag to him. No need to dwell on it now, they had a job to do after all.

About an hour later the two brothers, after a thorough examination of the car from Dean (Have to make sure she's okay Sam), were in the car and heading toward the center of town. Sam had found an article online about a teenage boy going missing the other day from home.

"A and B student, in the drama club, has a good group of friends, he has no reason to run away," Sam had said earlier.

"You never know with teenagers Sammy."

"It's Sam," he had replied automatically. "But that's not the weirdest part. On his computer was a half written email to his girlfriend, and in the middle of a sentence the letters H-E-L were typed up, then a bunch of random letters."

Dean had paused then, before walking to the screen and looking over Sam's shoulder at the article. "That is weird, but what makes you think it's Supernatural?"

"All the doors and windows were locked, eleven at night, no sign of a struggle."

"I suppose it's worth checking out, does the kid have a name?"

"Matt Chasel, his parents were home that night, so that's our first stop," Sam had said. A little more digging and they had found the address and were now on their way over.

They drove up to a small two-story house. Quickly rifling through their fake ID's, ("Just in case," Dean said) they made their way to the door. Sam rang the bell and a middle-aged woman appeared, dark circles under her eyes and wringing her hands nervously.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm Dean Carson and this is my partner Samuel Dongut, and we're here to investigate the case about your missing son."

"Oh of course, come in," the woman said, smiling tightly and allowing them inside. "The police had brushed this off as another runaway case, I didn't expect anyone else to come."

Dean and Sam shared a look. "Yes, they sent us over just to double check Mrs. Chasel."

Sarah Chasel closed the door behind them, glancing worriedly at the incoming storm clouds before turning and nodding. "Of course, come, we can sit in the dining room."

Once they were seated, Dean began asking the questions. "Was Matt a depressed kid?"

Sarah smiled. "Oh no, he was very cheerful, always smiling and going about a play he was in."

Dean and Sam nodded, and Sam sat forward a little, studying her carefully. "Did you and your husband get along well with your son? Was there any falling out you recently had that might cause him to want to run off for a few days?"

She shook her head. "No, we haven't had a big fight for a few weeks now."

"And did he have any plans he wanted to do this week?"

She shook her head again, and jumped a little at a sudden crash of thunder. "Oh my, that doesn't sound good," she commented quietly, clearly hoping Matt was not out in this kind of weather.

"Did you hear any struggle or sound from his room that night?" Dean asked.

"No," she said, suddenly looking sad. "Me and my husband, neither of us heard a sound. I woke up when Richard, my husband, came barging in, going on about him being gone." She sighed quietly, and jumped once more at another crash of thunder.

It was raining now, like bullets falling from the sky. Sarah anxiously turned on the television to check the weather forecast; apologizing to Sam and Dean who assured her it was fine.

"Sever weather will continue for the rest of today and tonight, it is highly recommended to stay indoors and out of this storm," the weatherman said.

"That doesn't sound good, maybe you two should spend the night. We have an extra room with two beds, granted they're small. I hate to see anyone out in weather like that."

Dean smiled and nodded at the woman. "That's very kind of you, thank you."

Sarah smiled and led them to their rooms on the second story. "Why don't we discuss this later, when my husband gets home over dinner?" she asked, and Sam nodded to her. She closed the door behind her.

Dean sat on the bed closest to the door out of habit, as Sam let himself fall to the feather mattress in glee. "We are going to sleep well tonight," he said.

Dean sure hoped so.

/…/…/…/

Whoa, turned out longer then I thought it would. So please review and tell me what you think, hopefully I'll update soon!


	2. Cannibalism

AN: Thanks everyone for the reviews! Not bad for my first supernatural fic, but first, I have news.

**MPORTANT: Kristin at E!Online has named the shows that are currently on the fence regarding a second season and Supernatural is one of them. She's asking that we email her at tvdiva at eonline dot com and put "Supernatural" in the subject line to cast our votes for the show we can't live without. The winner will get great publicity through E! and a plug to the decision makers! Supernatural has MADE THE FINAL FIVE! It's up to us to get it to win! Come on everyone, we can DO IT! We jumped the first hurdle, now let's win the race!**

Also I noticed a lot more story alerts then I saw reviews. I want to know what you think of my story, so please leave a review. It only takes like 2 minutes to write down a quick review. Plus, I update faster with motivation.

Ok, now that I'm done with that…

Disclaimer:

**Dean**: If she owned Supernatural, we'd end up dead.

**Sam: **Not dead, just unable to move.

**Me:** Heh heh, don't listen to them, I don't own Supernatural!

/…/…/…/

Chapter 2: Cannibalism

About an hour later Sarah had called the two brothers downstairs to dinner where they met her husband Richard. He nodded at them and sat down at the table, before they sat as well. The table was piled with friend chicken, mashed potatoes, and freshly baked biscuits.

Tennessee after all, did love their home-cooked meals.

Unfortunately the dinner was not a comfortable one, considering the conversation they had to continue over it.Because Dean was to busy eating like he'd not had food in over a week, Sam decided to take control of the interrogation.

"So, Matt stuck to home most of the time?"

Sarah looked slightly surprised for a moment, but then shook her head. "Um, no. There is this house…he spent quite a bit of time there. He said there was something about it." She took a bite of mashed potatoes. "Rumors have always been that it's haunted, but I don't think Matt believed in that stuff."

Dean and Sam shared a look.

"Well, we better turn in. Got to get an early start tommorow," Sam said, and him and Dean stood up.

Sarah smiled slightly. "Sleep well," she said, eyes traveling to Sam then lingering on Dean. A flash of lightning and crash of thunder that made the windows shake surprised all of them. It also reminded Dean that that was the reason they were there, otherwise they would be in a motel right now.

He honestly wasn't sure which he preferred at the moment.

As Dean and Sam got ready for bed, Dean briefly wondered if he'd have another nightmare like last night. He quickly pushed the thought away. He wasn't likely to have another dream like that, maybe it had been the burger he had had twenty minutes before he went to bed. That was the bad thing about moving so often, he had to eat a few minutes before going to bed. Everyone knew eating before you went to bed could cause weird dreams…right?

Right, of course.

So Dean adjusted his pillow, glanced at Sam (who was already asleep) and settled down for what he believed would be a peaceful night of slumber.

_Dean groaned and slowly opened his eyes, but wished he hadn't. As soon as he did his vision swam before him. For a moment he didn't know where he was. As his eyes adjusted, he looked up to see Sam a few feet in front of him, tied to a chair._

_"Sammy!" yelled Dean, and moved to rise from where he sat but found he couldn't. He glared at the ropes binding him to the chair and rubbing his wrists raw. "Are you okay?"_

_Sam didn't say anything, just stared at him with those big, scared, eyes. There was a trickled of blood running down his face, but he otherwise seemed unharmed. Dean on the other hand, felt a burning flash of pain rise up his arm every time he went to try and move it._

_Panting, he tried to work his hands into a position where he could get at the ropes. Before he could do anything though, he heard footsteps._

_A shadowy figure had stepped into the doorway, a long, shiny, silver knife clutched in their hands._

_Dean briefly wondered how the hell they had gotten there before glaring at the figure. "What the hell are you trying to pull?" he asked, but the man (as Dean could now tell once he had stepped forward) simply ignored him and walked towards Sam. "What are you doing? Stay away from him!"_

_But the man once again ignored him, and bent down eye level with Sam. Then he smiled a cold bone-chilling smile, one that made even Dean shiver in the stiffening hot room. The man took Sam's face and brought it close to his own, looking closely at the blood running swiftly down his face. Taking his finger, he wiped a bit off before putting it to his mouth and licking the blood off. Dean cringed in disgust and watched his little brother shudder at the contact._

_"Don't touch him you sick freak!" Dean shouted, tugging uselessly at his restraints. The man glared and stood up, walking up to Dean. He stared at him hard before lifting his hand and hitting him sharply in the jaw, causing Dean to groan with pain and Sam to growl in anger. The man then pulled Dean's chair closer, so he could see Sam closely. He then fingered his blade affectionately and plunged it into Sam's shoulder._

_Sam shouted in pain and the man lowered his head to the wound, lapping up the blood hungrily and smirking at Dean. Sam groaned as the man nibbled on the punctured skin. Dean was thrashing more then ever against the ropes, so much he could feel the blood leaking off his wrists. "Don't touch him you asshole! Keep away from my brother!"_

_The man smirked wider and said his first words to them, so cold and cruel that it made both Winchesters unconsciously shudder. "You're next."_

Dean sat up swiftly in bed, gasping for air and once again covered in sweat. He quickly looked across the room to where Sam was supposed to be sleeping, but he wasn't there. "Sam?" Dean asked, panicked. He jumped up and looked around the room to make sure he hadn't missed him. "Sammy?"

Exiting the room, Dean stalked down the hall, still looking for Sam. It had been so real, so distinct. He needed visual confirmation that his brother was alive and well.

When he reached the stairs he could suddenly hear Sam's voice saying something downstairs. He glanced down the staircase and saw Sam standing at the foot of the stairs with his back to him, saying something to Richard. Dean felt his tense muscles relax and quietly backed up towards their room.

Once he reached it he let himself sink heavily down to his bed. What was going on with him?

/…/…/…/…/…/

Half an hour later (after Dean had composed himself and was now making sure they had all their necessary items packed) Sam came upstairs to tell him Sarah had made them breakfast before they left. Dean grinned at the thought of another homemade meal and almost dashed down the stairs, much to Sam's amusement.

Sarah had made freshly baked biscuits, gravy, eggs, ham, and bacon. It never ceased to amaze Dean or Sam how well they ate down in the south. When Sarah finally finished putting the food on the table, she sat down silently in front of Dean. As everyone started eating she smiled happily at Dean and Sam. "Sleep well?" she asked. Her eyes rested briefly on Sam before sliding slowly to Dean. Sam came in with a chipper "yes" while Dean just slowly nodded.

It would be rude not to and he didn't want to worry his brother.

After breakfast was finished, the two brothers retreated to their rooms to discuss the latest break in the case.

"Well, she told us (even if she didn't realize it) why Matt is missing," Sam said, as they packed up the few things they had brought in for the night.

"Yeah," Dean muttered distractedly. Something just seemed off about this…but he couldn't point his .45 at it. It was really beginning to frustrate him. He glanced up to see Sam watching him curiously. "But we still don't know where it is," he added.

"So we should ask if she knows where this place is, just make sure we mention it's for investigation purposes," Sam confirmed. Dean nodded, and the two brothers headed downstairs.

She quickly told them where the house was ("she sure knows the area," Sam had commented) and the two thanked her and her husband before leaving.

It was time to figure out what they were dealing with.

/…/…/…/…/

I know, short, but I really wanted to get this out, mostly for the AN at the beginning. Until next time, please review!


	3. Déjà vu

AN: Sorry it's so short. I just wanted to get something up to show how the real plot is starting up. Plus I won't be working on this story at all for like three weeks. One word, final exams. Okay two words but still…I'll update in June, but don't expect any updates for a little while.

Disclaimer:

**Dean: **There would be a lot of 'to be continued's ' if she owned Supernatural.

**Sam**: That's because of her love for cliffhangers.

**Me: **I hate them happening to me though.

Chapter three: Déjà vu

It was dark. In fact, it was pitch black. Dean was terrified. He had no idea why, but he was terrified. The presence of Sam at his back offered a slight comfort, that is, until the laughter began. It was an old wheezing laugh, and it was coming from every direction.

As Dean's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the form of someone laying a few feet away. He felt more then saw that it was Matt, and he knew he was dead.

He heard a sudden cry from Sam to watch out and before he knew what was happening he had been thrown forward right next to Matt's body. Dean looked up to Matt and for a second he thought he would be sick.

It was Matt, blonde, skinny, probably a few inches shorter then him, and unmistakably dead. There was an old rusty ax right between his eyes, a look of shock plastered on his pale face. Dried blood was caked to his face, and it was apperent he had been dead for a while. Dean stumbled back and something flew at Matt, and lifted the ax with a sickening squish of flesh.

Dean quickly reached for his gun but found it was not there. Wondering what had happened before the darkness he scanned the dark floor. He didn't spot it, and a sudden force threw him backwards and into a bookcase. He and the bookcase fell to the ground, with the shelves landing with a loud crack on his legs. Dean groaned in pain as a burning sensation spread through his legs. He tried to pull himself free but he couldn't move.

He looked up in time to see Sam turning toward him to see if he was alright. Before he could say a word, the ax in the old ghosts hand went flying and impaled him in the back of the back of the head.

Dean woke with a gasp and was on his feet before he realized he had been dreaming. His surroundings came back to him quickly, they were in a decent motel room, the sheets were at least clean and there wasn't much dust throughout the room. They had found this room yesterday after an unsuccessful day of research.

Neither Dean or Sam had found anything strange about the house, but had agreed they should check out the house the next day. In the meantime, Sam had suggested they find something to do the next day besides the hunt. Dean hadn't been particularly fond of this idea, considering how stressful their last day off had been.

He did not want to go to New London, Wisconsin anytime soon. Everyone there was weird, and the town was creepy. (1)

Dean glanced at the clock, it was six in the morning. He could hear the shower going and he assumed that's where Sam was.

These dreams were really starting to piss him off. This dream didn't even tie in with any of his old cases (though it did tie in with this one, considering Matt.)

"I'm not having psychic dreams," Dean said to himself. "That's Sam's specialty."

The only thing Dean was sure of was that he wanted to wrap up this case. Maybe these weird dreams would stop once he got out of this town. So that settled it, they would investigate this house tonight. The sooner he got out of this town, the better.

After much begging from Sam, Dean had agreed to find something to do in the town. ("I am not going to Walmart though," Dean told him.")

"We seem to have a talent for finding small towns' Sam said while browsing the lack of things to do. His eyes stopped on an apparent attraction and he pointed it out. "What about that?"

Dean read the ad out loud, as if he couldn't believe Sam was suggesting it. "Old world, traveling display of life in the pioneer days Sam are you nuts?"

Sam glared. "It's the most interesting thing there is."

Sadly Dean has to agree. So the two brothers headed to the display, Sam curious and Dean reluctant.

The 'old world' was set up in an old field and had a surprising amount of visitors (at least in Dean's opinion). Displays were set up showing different daily tools, including weapons.

"Ah, how we have progressed," Dean said smirking.

They stopped to watch a woman dressed in pioneer clothes start cooking over an open fire. She bit back a yelp of pain when she burned her finger on the fire and almost caught the old costume on fire. "I'll stick to microwaves, thanks," said Dean as they passed her up.

"Yeah, well there would be no microwaves if it wasn't for us," a man yelled in costume, glaring at them from a display. Dean raised an eyebrow at him and rolled his eyes to Sam.

"And what does a microwave have to do with fire?" Dean asked.

The old man glared deeply at Dean. "You youngsters have no respect! Why in these days if you were a bit younger them schoolteachers or your ma and pa could have beat you until you bled!"

The man looked like he was ready to jump from his display and attack them, so they quickly walked off. "I'm telling you Sammy, we are just not meant to have any time off."

"It's Sam," was his only response.

By nightfall Dean and Sam were bored out of their mind, and were glad to finally be doing something. Small towns like this had made them both a little weary since the scarecrow incident.

Finding the house had been simple enough, the only problem could be getting in. Luckily there were no police around, just a police line telling them not to cross. The windows were boarded up too. Aparently the demolition crew was coming…three weeks ago. Obviously they hadn't followed through.

It wasn't difficult to find a way in, and minutes later Sam and Dean were standing inside the old house. They glanced around and made their way further inside, Sam carrying the flashlight.

Dean had moved off to the side a bit, seeing a strange looking painting of a blonde girl we wanted to get a better look at. Suddenly the floor gave out beneath him. His legs fell through the hole in the floor but he managed to get a good grip on the floorboards in front of him. He thanked God for his good reflexes but cringed when he heard a clattering as something fell to the ground under his legs. Sam was quickly by his side and helped him onto solid ground. They both stood and moved away from the hole in the floor.

They made their way out of the main room and glanced into another. It looked like some sort of den. Then suddenly a soft wheezing laugh found its way into the room. Both boys froze, but neither could locate the direction the laughter was coming from.

Dean caught a glimpse of a boy on the floor a few feet away, and a bookcase on the other side of the room.

Then Sam's flashlight went out, and the laughter paused and all was silent.

It was dark. Not just dark, pitch black. Dean was terrified, and he knew exactly why. He knew this had happened before.

This was his dream.

/…/…/…/…/

AN: And now the plot really begins. Hope you enjoyed, and review! I'll update in a couple weeks, after finals.

Note 1: This and everything referring to their old day off has to do with my other Supernatural fic 'Stressful day off.' It also refers slightly to a one-shot I'm working on about their trip to Walmart, so…yeah. xD


	4. Duck

AN: Well, I was bored, and instead of studying for my world geography test, I decided I really wanted to update. The only reason you guys got this was because of the three-day weekend. I'll be studying for finals this week and this weekend, so probably no update (seriously) for about three weeks.

Also, I hope if you read this you could at least leave a quick review to tell me what you think, it inspires me to keep going. I'm a terrible reviewer (Gotta work on that) so I shouldn't be talking. And by the way, I rose the rating to be safe. There's going to be a lot of violence and possibly gruesome images in future chapters, and our boys don't have the cleanest mouths in the world.

Disclaimer:

**Dean: **If she did own Supernatural, she wouldn't worry about what the writers would do

**Sam: **We would worry about if we would live

/…/…/…/…/

Chapter 4: Duck

Sam moved closer to his brother so that they were now back to back. Dean was tense at his back, and Sam looked past his brother to see if there was anything there, but all there was following his brother's gaze was darkness.

The wheezing laughter from moments ago began again, and Sam looked franticly around the room, begging his eyes to adjust to the darkness soon so he could see what was going on. Dean was incredibly stiff at his back, as if he knew something was going to happen.

Sam felt something cold brush roughly past him. "Dean watch out!" he cried, but Dean had already gone flying across the room, and landed right next to a body. The body of a boy.

"Oh God," Sam muttered, turning his gaze away. Instead he gazed around, hoping to see some trace of what he was looking for. He caught a glimpse of something moving toward Matt and Dean, but as soon as he tried to get a better look it was gone. The ax lodged in the teenager's head was lifted and Sam winced. His eyes followed the ax it flew around the room.

Dean, meanwhile, was reaching for his gun, even though he knew it wouldn't be there. Sure enough, his gun was missing, and he realized with frustration that it must have fallen to the floor while he was dangling from the hole in the ancient floor.

Suddenly, Dean remembered what had happened next. He started to move away from Matt, but found himself flying, as he had in the dream, toward the bookcase. As his shoulder got acquainted with the floor where it had landed after the crash, the bookcase swayed dangerously and then began its descent on to Dean.

"Not this time," Dean growled and rolled out of the way. The bookcase still managed to catch his foot underneath it, but at least he knew he'd be able to walk again.

Sam had taken his eyes off the ax for a split second to watch Dean roll out of the way of the bookcase. He was about to ask if Dean was alright, but Dean interrupted him. "Duck! NOW!"

Sam, not one to question the desperation in Dean's voice, fell to the floor as the ax soared over his head. It lodged itself in the bookcase beside Dean, who was panting with what Sam assumed was the weight of the bookcase. He hastily made his way over as the ax began to be tugged free of the bookcase. He lifted it as much as he could, and Dean got his foot out from under the bookcase and stood, wincing only slightly at the pain of putting full weight on both feet.

"Well Sammy, what the hell are we dealing with?" Dean asked, relieved to see his brother had gotten off better then Matt.

"It's Sam," he replied distractedly as he watched the ax hover in the air. "I don't understand why we can't see it," he muttered more to himself then Dean.

Dean glared at the ax, as if daring it to take another shot at him and Sam. "Who knows Sam? You sure it's not just the ax that's going all crazy on us."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Have you forgotten the laughter and the," Sam stopped the conversation as the ax flew at them again. Him and Dean dodged to the side and the ax flew into the wall. "The fact that whatever the hell this thing is likes throwing you around?"

Smirking, Dean backed away from the ax. "At least I was good at dodge ball, no one could touch me. What about you?" Dean asked as they moved closer to the door leading to the main room.

"I always caught it."

"I don't think you want to catch this," Dean said smirking.

Quite suddenly Sam was gone from his side, thrown backwards and back into the main room. Dean growled and stepped backwards, away from the ax and called over his shoulder to make sure Sam was okay.

"Fine," Sam said, standing from his position on the floor and reaching for his gun. He glanced at the large hole Dean had almost fallen through and that he, in turn, had almost been thrown down, and saw Dean's gun sitting on the floor below. "Dammit."

He looked up to see what it was Dean had been looking at before he fell. It was a painting of a woman standing on a cliff face. Her hair was a beautiful blonde, but that wasn't what caught Sam's attention. It was her eyes, bright green and the most lifelike he had even seen done in a painting.

_What the hell are you doing? There's some kind of spirit trying to kill you and Dean with an ax, and you're admitting artwork!_ Sam told himself and turned away from the painting. Dean was about a foot away from the hole now, eyes trained warily on the ax.

Sam focused his gaze on the rusty object, as it was pulled back, ready to be sent flying. He prepared his dodge ball skills, the ones that did not involve catching, but he didn't have to bother.

Everything happened so fast. Dean took one step back too many and his foot met empty air. He had no time to react before he had started falling backwards.

Sam stooped down and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him backwards and away from the hole. Him and Dean both landed on the floor, Dean on top of Sam. Sam cursed whoever built this house and had not put in carpeted floors. "Dude you have to watch that spot in the floor."

But Dean wasn't looking at him; he was looking at the painting. Sam lifted his gaze as well to find the ax was embedded in the painting, right between the girl's eyes. Blood was running from where the ax hit, and a girl's scream suddenly seemed to irrupt from the painting. The ax shook violently, and Sam lifted his gun and shot the rock salt at the ax.

The ax, as well as the girl's scream, froze. The blood flowing from between the paintings eyes dried instantly, and the ax suddenly fell to the ground at their feet.

They slowly stood, still staring at the painting.

This had been one messed up case.

/…/…/…/…/

Sam sighed. This was the one thing about a case he hated. He didn't want to go back to Matt's mother and tell her they had found her son dead, but there was nothing else they could do. The police would find the body the next day thanks to an 'anonymous' tip, and Sarah had the right to know what happened to her son.

They had arrived outside the house the next afternoon, after already planning their next location. They were heading to the other side of Tennessee next, hopefully to somewhere a bit more populated, with perhaps a bit more to do. They were setting off tonight, so they would be gone by the time the police went to investigate the tip about Matt.

Sarah came to the door, blonde hair pulled back and green eyes sparkling in hope. Dean looked away and Sam took it for what it meant, that he should do the talking.

"Mrs. Chasel, may we speak with you and your husband?"

"Of course, come in," she said. She led them to the living room where her husband was sitting watching television. He abruptly turned it off when he saw the grave look on both boys' faces.

Sam sighed silently before making eye contact with both parents in turn. "I'm very sorry to have to tell you this," Sam began.

Sarah slowly sat down and kept her eyes trained on Sam, who was talking. Her eyes slid to Dean and he stared. Why was she staring at him like that?

"But your son was found, though not in the condition any of us would have liked to hope."

"Is he hurt?"

Dean tore his gaze from Sarah's.

"You're son I'm afraid, is dead."

The reaction was slightly different then they had expected. Richard sat there in shock, as if he was not able to comprehend the words. Sarah continued to stare at Dean, before slowly saying, "How-how…terrible."

"How?" Interrupted her husband.

"We're not entirely sure, sir," Dean said.

Sarah gazed from one brother to the other, piercing their eyes as if she would find more information. "Was their blood?" she asked, in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer was yes, there was blood, her son had been killed in a terrible way.

"Yes Mrs. Chasel, we're very sorry," Sam said.

Sarah sat there for a moment before slowly standing. "Thank you, for your help." She looked as if she would say more, but stopped. Dean and Sam looked each other, prepared to make their exit.

"I have to warn you, the press is sure to find out soon," Dean said as him and Sam prepared to close this off so they could get back to the Impala and leave town.

"I understand."

It was said so calmly that both brothers turned their eyes to her again. Her eyes were hard. Sarah gazed at a picture of her son on stage hung on the wall, and abruptly turned away from both of them. "If you don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course."

The brothers left the parents to deal with the grief of losing their only child. Dean sat in the drivers seat and turned on the car, quickly putting on Metallica. Him and Sam took one last look at the house before Dean pulled away from the curb and headed towards the highway.

Dean had been driving for a few hours when Sam suggested they stop for the night.

"Sam, I want to be as far away from that town as possible when the police find Matt's body," Dean said, holding back a yawn.

"Well I don't mean spend a couple days there, I mean stop there for the night and leave right in the morning." When Dean didn't respond, Sam knew he was going to have to lay it on thick. "Come on Dean, please," he asked putting up his puppy dog eyes.

Dean glanced at Sam but immediately wished he hadn't. Damn Sam and his damn puppy dog eyes. They had always had the desired affect on Dean all their lives. Dean sighed dramatically when he didn't feel Sam's eyes move. "Alright, alright! But we're leaving right in the morning."

Sam smirked in victory.

Twenty minutes later both Dean and Sam were in a small, cramped motel room. Dean dropped his stuff on his bed and went to go take a shower, and Sam got ready to go to bed. It was ten minutes to midnight, and he hoped he wouldn't be interrupted tonight with any nightmares.

Dean returned shortly after to find Sam asleep. He smiled at Sam's peaceful sleep and went to lie down on his own bed, hoping with them moving towns that these nightmares would be over.

_Dean couldn't move. That much he knew. He didn't know where he was, only that it was dark, and he was tired securely to something behind him. He looked up to see Sam tied, probably the same way Dean himself was tied, and a shadowed figure heading towards Sam, a shining knife clutched in their hand._

/…/…/…/…/

Well? What do you think? Longer then last time, and better then last chapter, in my opinion. Next chapter we'll see the most gruesome nightmare yet (I know, the 'benders' take wasn't pretty)

So please review, I can't believe I didn't study for that test (now that I'm done and I only have a few hours before bed)


	5. Torture

AN: Yes, this is a short chapter. That's because it's only the dream. My computer died after my last update and we had to buy an all new one, so this is all I had wrote out. Plus I want to write two chapters by Sunday night so I can finish up 'Happy fathers day' BY fathers day. Updates might slow down a bit, because I want to play around with some ideas I have for another story, but since it's summer…anyway, here's the next chapter.

Also, you should pay close attention to the dream. There's some hints dropped in about what's going on with Dean, and about future chapters.

Disclaimer: The lawyers told me there was no way to take over Supernatural, so I guess I don't own it.

Chapter 5: Torture

/…/…/…/

It was blurry. That was the first thing that occurred to Dean when he blinked his eyes. Everything was blurry and hazy, and his head was spinning even though he knew he hadn't moved. It was as if his vision had been turned down to only see the main aspects of the room.

He was also confused, a moment ago things had been clear. Dark but clear, but suddenly everything had turned hazy, as if gazing through a thick fog.

He didn't feel any pain, not at first anyway. He didn't feel the ropes digging into his wrists, though he did feel the blood running down them. It was running down his arms in criss-crossing patterns. The coppery smell filled his nose, and he wasn't entirely sure how he knew the pattern of his blood, but it's all his head was willing to comprehend at the moment.

After a few minutes his head stopped spinning, though his vision still hadn't cleared. But then he heard Sam's scream, his little brothers pained scream, and he focused enough to move his gaze around the room until he saw Sam.

When he did, Dean swore his heart stopped for a second. The knife, the knife he had sworn he'd just seen but wasn't sure, was logged deep in Sam's shoulder. Blood was seeping from the wound in quick running streams, and a fuzzy hand was holding the handle, twisting the knife, making Sam's scream louder.

Dean wanted to yell at the figure to stop, wanted to scream at the thing to get the hell away from his baby brother, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a weak moan. Dean could barley hear it himself.

The strangely blurred figure had removed the knife from Sam's shoulder and was now pressing it right next to Sam's eye, just hard enough to draw blood. He dragged the knife closer until the knife point was not even a centimeter away from touching his eye.

The figure didn't move for a minute, then abruptly stuck the knife into Sam's eye.

The screams were instant. Blood and water oozed from the punctured eyeball, running in quick rivers down his face. Fluids poured out quickly and Sam's screams grew louder. He jerked his head to the side and blood as well as other fluids ran into his mouth. He choked, trying not to swallow and moved his head back, tears in his unharmed eye.

"Sammy," Dean said in a hoarse voice, and his head fell to his chest.

A soft female voice filled the room, but Dean couldn't find the energy to lift his head. He did however, hear every word clearly. Apparently the strange fog had affected just his eyes, and not his hearing.

"Do you know what I will do next Dean?" the voice asked tauntingly. "I will pull the flesh from his bones and feed it to the wolves just outside this room. I will break every bone in his body, and you will watch. You will see what I do to him, then I will do the same to you.

"No," Dean said. "You won't, you can't."

"Oh but I can, and I will."

The voice was annoyingly familiar, like someone he had spoken to briefly a long time ago. "You won't. I-I'll stop you."

The voice sounded angry now. "Don't even dream of stopping me."

Dean managed a little sarcasm in his now weary voice. "I'd never dream of watching you die for what you did to my brother."

"I know."

He lifted his eyes to the owner of the voice, who was still standing by Sam who had fallen unconscious.

"You wouldn't dream of killing me Dean. This is your dream, this is what you want to happen. Whatever you dream here comes true, because it is what you want."

"That's a lie!"

The figure chuckled. "I can assure you that it's not."

"Sammy, I sometimes get mad at him," his voice faltered, but he pressed himself to go on. "But never, not something like this," he broke off and started coughing.

"This is your twisted imagination Dean, and like it or not you are the one in control of your dreams."

_Even my mind isn't this sick._

"You seem to know a lot about this, it's you, you're making me dream this."

"I'm not making you do anything. Now, I think it's time you wake up. There's not much more to do tonight…" she trailed off a moment. "I think your brain has drained itself of creative torturing methods for now."

Dean struggled against the ropes as the figure traced a hand along Sam's cheekbone. They stopped and turned towards Dean, a mocking smile on their face.

"Sleep well."

Dean felt a burning pain fill his eyes, and a sudden sensation in his throat as if being filled with thick water that stopped him from breathing. Suddenly, he jerked up in bed with a loud yell. His breaths came out in loud pants, and he jumped when the light turned on from next to Sam's bed.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

Dean knew now, that this had gotten way out of control. He had to tell Sam that something was going on.

/…/…/…/

AN: Dun dun dun. Is Dean really dreaming this up on his own, or his someone interfering? I wonder if you could pick up any clues? I think I made some points a little obvious, as well as some nice foreshadowing. I was a little nervous about this chapter, was it done okay? Please let me know.


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